


Permission

by anne_ammons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons
Summary: You've got the girl. It should be a simple thing to seal the deal, but perhaps not, depending on who her father is.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, James Sirius Potter/Cassiopeia Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44
Collections: The Marauders Advent 2020





	Permission

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Marauders Advent 2020 collection. Thanks for hosting, Frump!
> 
> My prompt was: James Sirius Potter and an open fire.

He could have used the Floo, but given this was a formal visit, he’d elected to Apparate to the main gates and walk up the path leading to the front door. It was important that everything go perfectly. He couldn’t afford an inadvertent slip in protocol.

One of the elves let him in and took his coat before showing him to the study.

“Wait here. Master will be along shortly,” the elf explained before closing the door behind him.

James nodded, his anxiety level suddenly rising.

The room was clearly a man’s retreat, with wood paneling on the walls, bookshelves, a large imposing desk. He had only been in here once before.

He walked over to peek at the bar cart, wondering if he might nip a little something before his host arrived to help calm his nerves. Of course he couldn’t. That would be quite a faux pas to not wait for his host to offer, nor did he expect his host would given it was still so early in the day.

The fireplace had a roaring fire in it which made the room quite stuffy. He stood near it for a bit, watching the flames dance and twist then ran a finger along the collar of his shirt to try to give himself a bit more room.

It had all come down to this. It might seem outdated and unnecessary to speak with Cassie’s father, but he wanted to do the right thing. He knew she had been raised traditionally. While arranged marriages and betrothal contracts might be a thing of the past, there were some things that one couldn’t avoid, at least not if he wanted to remain in her parents’ good graces.

But did it need to be quite so hot?

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Did he sit on the sofa or wait to be asked? Was her father keeping him waiting on purpose? He didn’t think he was the type of person to do that, but then again, he had probably guessed that this wasn’t a social call; not that he thought that Cassie’s father was the type who would ever wish to see him without his daughter present.

Hell, James was still a little intimidated by the man who was build like a brick wall, and seemed to have the emotions of one as well. Cassie always told stories about her father being funny and warm, but James had never seen it. The man seemed to have few words while he was around, and he almost always looked as if he wished James was anywhere but in his home.

Heexhaled forcefully. Surely there was a book that covered the finer points of how to do this. Of course, it was Cassie who would have known the answer to that question, and he couldn’t exactly have asked her.

And what was taking so long?

James had been ready for this talk when he left his flat this morning. He had practiced his words in the mirror and everything, but now he was feeling decidedly uneasy.

He wandered over to the bookcase hoping to find something to take his mind off of the task at hand, at least for a moment. If he kept dwelling on what he was about to do, he worried he’d lose the plot entirely once the time came.

Even a sip of tea wouldn’t have been unwelcome, although the elf hadn’t asked.

The shelves were mostly covered in books with an odd photo frame or memento tucked in. An old snitch. A glass orb. A stuffed white ferret. He wondered about the significance of them; each was an enigma, just like the man he was waiting to speak with.

He knew the stories. He knew what her father had done in his youth. Over the years Cassie had shared with him far more of the family lore than perhaps she should have.

He wanted to pick up the Snitch, but they had flesh memories, which made them fairly personal, so instead, he picked up the glass orb, looking to do something with his hands. It flared red for a moment and then cleared as he tossed it in the air then caught it. The repetitive motion took his mind off of the wait and the stifling heat.

It was in the air when he heard the doorknob turn. He turned his attention from the orb for just a moment, and nearly dropped it when it came down.

He grimaced and hurried to return it to its place on the shelf before turning to his host.

“Sweet Salazar! It’s burning up in here! Are you unwell? Do you have a chill?”

Cassie’s father had a scowl on his face, which wasn’t unusual.

James sighed. Not thirty seconds in to his audience and things had already gone left.

He shook his head. “No sir, it was like that when I came in.”

“And you didn’t think to turn it off?”

He hadn’t, given he had assumed that it was on for a reason.

His host raised an eyebrow at him, just like Cassie had done countless times. Seeing the expression on his face, he realized how very much like her father she was, even if she was a girl, even if she was very much her mother’s daughter as well. The man then waved his hand and the flame vanished, although the oppressive heat lingered.

Her father strode over to the bar cart next, ignoring the fact that it was still before noon. He poured a glass of Firewhiskey and then looked up at James, silently asking whether he should pour a second. James gave a curt nod, not wanting to seem eager, but thankful for the offer.

He handed him a glass then indicated that James should sit on the sofa in the room, while he took the chair.

James took a sip of the liquid courage, finding it went down much smoother than what he was used to drinking. He nodded in appreciation and the two sat in silence for a time.

He knew he needed to speak first, given he had asked for this meeting, but now that he was here, finding the words was proving more difficult than it had been as he practiced in his flat this morning.

“Mr. Malfoy, I hope you know how much I care for your daughter. I’m planning to ask her to marry me and I’ve come to you today to ask your permission to do so.”

The brick wall sat in front of him for a moment then quickly downed the rest of his drink and stood, returning to the bar cart to pour himself a second.

James sat there uncomfortably. He was sure the man had heard him. Was there more he needed to say?

He then strode over to the bookcase, stopping beside a photo that James had just seen; it featured Cassie as a young girl who looked to be not quite five yet, as she skipped along before stopping to pick a flower.

“You’re asking my permission to marry my daughter.”

It was a statement, not a question. James wasn’t sure whether he should respond, or if his statement was the start of more. He was feeling increasingly nervous and now was also a bit warm from the alcohol, as much as he had been from the heat.

The man turned towards him.

“You’re asking _my_ permission to marry my daughter.”

“Of course. I have the utmost respect for you and your wife, and I wouldn’t dream of asking for Cassie’s hand without your permission.”

“And if I didn’t give it?”

There was the familiar eyebrow again.

James frowned, feeling a little defeated. He hadn’t expected that answer.

“Well, then I suppose I’d ask you what it would take to gain it.”

He saw the corner of the man’s mouth bend just a tiny bit.

“Have you met my wife and daughter?”

James was puzzled. Clearly it was sarcasm, but to what end.

He answered tentatively. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you should already know that this conversation-“ He waved a hand between them. “-means absolutely nothing. If you have a question for Cassiopeia you need to ask her directly. You couldn’t pay me enough to wade into this.” He gave half a chuckle.

James was stunned with the show of emotion from the normally stolid man.

“Oh,” James replied, sitting back in his seat.

“Oh, indeed.”

The blond man motioned towards the decanter.

“Ready for a refill?”

This time James nodded enthusiastically.

His soon-to-be father in law, or so he hoped, picked up the decanter and poured him a little more, then took his seat, leaning forward.

Similarly James scooted forward on the sofa. Was there to be a toast? Some declaration of good will? Would he be welcomed to the family?

“To be clear, though-“ the man across from him explained in a low voice, staring directly at him. “-if you hurt my daughter, I will find you and I will end you. There is no place that you can hide where I wouldn’t be able to track you down. And unlike everyone else, I’m not intimidated by your last name. Understand?”

James gulped and dipped his head once.

“Excellent. I’m glad we had this chat.”


End file.
